


Vignettes of Adventures

by MarbleGargoyle



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bacon, Edd Makes Puns, Extra scene for The Snogre, Fighting over bacon, Fighting over bacon: part 2, Finally, Gen, Heatwave, Ice Cream, Murder Mystery, Shenanigans involving food ingredients and AC units, Thin Walls scare away business, Tom's quest for alcohol, Vignette, Zombehs, except not really, plus magic, the more you know, visit from future selves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleGargoyle/pseuds/MarbleGargoyle
Summary: Their household is certainly strange (and downright dangerous), but they wouldn't have it any other way.Happy Eddsworld Week 2018, everyone!





	1. Bacon Battle

**Author's Note:**

> . . . I dunno. I saw that there is an Eddsworld Week and wanted to join. I went with Character’s Interests for the first day because it's good to ease yourself into something.

Tom loathes mornings. The one time of day only crazy people like and seem to enjoy. As Tom has learnt early in living with three other men, mornings are not to be trifled with. Even waking up early shows a concerning lack of self-preservation in this household. Between Edd and Tord’s bacon addiction and the lengths they’ll go to satisfy it, the carnage of Edd running out of cola, Matt holding the bathroom hostage, and Tom’s own shambling until he gets some alcohol in his system, it’s a miracle no one’s died yet.

Said liquid is the reason Tom strip searched his room within an inch of its miserable life, but not a drop could be found. He must have drank it all last night and forgot to restock his flasks. Defeated, he flops down on the unmade bed, staring at his bedroom door. On one hand, he must start the day eventually and going for some Smirnoff would be ideal. The other hand… Well, nobody with any common sense would go down to the kitchen if either cola or bacon is at stake.

… Looks like Tom doesn’t have any.

He makes his way out of his room and down the stairs, growing more and more cautious as he approaches the kitchen. He’s close to tippy toeing when he reaches the open arch doorway and carefully looks into the room.

Great, the bacon addicts are already down to the last few pieces of pork meat, though neither seems to have realized yet. There’d be enough time to walk in, say hello if he’s noticed, and get out with precious substance in hand before the chairs start flying. Maybe he could grab some toast if Tord kept his eyes on his newspaper and Edd remained sleep dazed.

Tom enacts his battle plan quickly, power walking to the fridge with no glances at the communal bacon plate whatsoever. He returns Edd’s slurred greeting with one of his own, keeping his eyes(?) on the prize, and has the bottle in his hands when his plan falls apart.

“Edd, that’s the last piece of bacon!”

He freezes up, whiten eyes(?) darting between enraged Tord, smirking Edd, and the damnable food in Edd’s hand. Forget the toast, he has to get out now while they don’t have any knives!

Creeping slowly to the doorway, Tom has his sight on the threats to his person and bottle. Edd puts the strip back on the plate and drags it closer to him to protect his claim on it. Tord snarls and reaches to pull the plate to himself, but Edd slaps away his hands every time. Tom’s so focused on them, he doesn’t see the new threat enter the kitchen.

Matt walks right up to the table, obvious to its occupants’ mood. “Hey, guys! Lovely weather today, huh?” He spies the bacon strip and scoops it up. “Bacon!”

_The poor fool_ , Tom has enough time to think before all hell breaks loose.

Tord gets up, grabs his rolled up newspaper, and waves it threateningly while Edd has a fork pointed menacingly at Matt’s throat. The explosion of both shouts and actions stun Matt and Tom into stillness. Edd sees his chance and swipes the bacon from Matt’s hand, prompting Tord to dive over the table to tackle him down. Matt has the sense to back up and keep to the walls as he goes about making his breakfast. Tom just filches a box of pop tarts and retreats to his room.

He’ll deal with the aftermath when he has a cup or two and they’re calm.


	2. Bakery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The town's best bakery is their pride and joy, but it has its problems.
> 
> Like thin walls. It has thin walls and a staff with no volume control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This for the alternate universe prompt. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Notes: Paul's name is the Danish Poul and Palle is a nickname of that. I refuse to use anything the actors are uncomfortable with, so I went on a name hunt for ALL the characters. Some didn't have alternatives and remained the same (Matt is still Matthew, Edd's last name is still Gold from Saloonatics), but this is what I've come up with: Ted "Edd" Gold; Tordssen "Tord" Solberg; Thompson "Tom" Langdon; Matthew "Matt" Shaw; Patryck "Pat" Kedzierski; and Poul "Palle" Boelens.

Gold & Solberg Bakery is home to delicious sweets and breads, but the whole town agrees it’s best to place an online order instead of waiting in the store. It’s not that the staff actively keeps people away; it’s the thin walls revealing everything behind the scenes.

“Edd! For fuck’s sake, stop using all the flour!”

Paper. Thin. Walls.

Matt smiles apologetically at the customer staring wide-eyed at the doorway to the kitchens. She turns to him and opens her mouth for a question that gets drowned out by Edd’s response.

“I am _this_ close to whacking you with a rolling pin!”

“... Your fingers are touching.”

“Exactly, Tom.”

They jump as metal smashing on the ground sounds out, profanities and threats to delicate man bits ringing along with it. Matt scrambles to minimize the damage to their reputation.

“Um, want a free sample from the display? Pretty lady like you deserves something sweet.” He sweeps his arm in a grand gesture over the side bar and wriggles his eyebrows for good measure.

Mechanically, she glances down at the selection, points to a strawberry croissant, and snaps her eyes back to the door. He pulls out her choice, wraps it in a napkin, and hands it to her. Something heavy crashes in the hallway to the managerial offices and racks up the cursing in the air. He prays Palle finishes his smoke break soon and helps Tord before another water cooler needs to be replaced. The unfortunate woman probably won’t be back at this rate.

Edd comes in, flour in his hair and expression sour, but manages a smile for the customer as he hands over her cake. He turns on his heel toward the offices and stalks into the hallway. Matt’s quick to process her transaction and wave her out, flipping the front door sign to “Out to Lunch!” Then, he follows after the head baker and co-owner to where Tord’s breaking apart a machine in his office.

Matt recognizes what it is after a closer look. “Your air conditioner broke again?”

Tord gives a frustrated grunt in answer, focused on solving the problem.

“Isn’t this the four time this month?” Edd questions incredulously.

“Yes! I don’t know what’s wrong. Buttons first, fans second, then wiring, and now one of the coil’s frozen!” He tries to glare the old unit into submission, but has to concede defeat when it just sits there still broken.

Matt peeks at the clock and relief floods him. Palle’s break is almost over. A fresh perspective that knows what to look for can do more than what either him or Edd can though he feels bad throwing the man under the bus like this. A cranky, trigger happy, hot mess of a bus.

“I’ll check on Tom and get Palle.” He excuses himself out of there.

He passes Patryck at the counter, handling a call from the savvy customers. They share a brief moment of eyebrow rising and gestures toward the front door sign, office, and kitchen, but Pat catches up quickly on what he missed during his break. Pat rolls his eyes and waves Matt on.

Once past the doorway, Matt greets, “Hi, Tom!”

Matt’s careful stepping about to reach Tom’s place near the ovens, dreading tripping on the flour-streaked floor. Tom glares at them to cook faster, but he glances over and nods his greeting. A near empty bottle of Smirnoff rests on the counter by his elbow.

“Hey, Matt. Something happen with the Commie?”

Seriously, these walls… 

“Yeah, his AC unit broke again.” Matt answers, looking at the sweets inside through the tiny window. Man, those looked good.

Tom snorts and takes a gulp from the bottle. “Fourth time this month. He needs to get over himself and buy a new one.”

“Tom,” Matt admonishes.

“I know, I know. ‘He’s a tinker at heart, Tom’. Well, it’s fine when it’s his off time, but during store hours? I don’t wanna hear Norwegian swearing while I’m filling custards or something.”

Matt sighs, seeing the losing battle before him. “Have you seen Palle? He’ll help Tord keep it down for us.”

“By the fire exit.”

They part ways after Matt takes a muffin from the reject pile. The explosion of sweet peach and wispy frosting on his tongue never fails to lift his spirits. Who could’ve known Tom has such amazing baking skills? 

He comes to the exit still licking his fingers of frosting, so it’s a bit of struggle to open it without sacrificing any of the deliciousness. When he sees the ginger, Poul takes a long, last drag of his cigarette then puts it out on the metal railing and throws it into a trashcan.

“AC again?”

“Yeah. Weird how it keeps breaking, huh?” He’s subjected to a deadpan look conveying how much Poul believes it’s a mere coincidence the thing breaks down so often. It’s surprisingly little.

They chat a bit longer, neither really wanting to get caught up in anymore crazy shenanigans. But duty calls, literally for Matt, and they separate to their dooms. When Matt slides back behind the counter, he can hear Tom and Edd going at it again about Edd’s experimenting with ingredients. More distant is a foreign language in argumentative tones and metallic clanking. He and Pat share a long suffering look over the phones.

Just another day at Gold & Solberg Bakery.


	3. Ellsworld Future Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a visit to the past for cola, Tamara asks her future self where she got the visor. It descends rapidly from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels rushed, sorry. My only excuse is that it's Father's Day.

“So how’d you get the specs?”

Tamara looks away from Matilda and Ella on the couch with their younger selves to her younger self sat next to her on the side chairs. Hm, how to answer without spoiling everything?

“Did Tori leave to make it in the big city yet?” Best to establish where she is in the past first.

“Yeah.” Tam narrows her eyes(?). “Don’t tell me she actually gets filthy rich.”

Well, this’ll be easy, Tamara thinks as she takes a gulp from a bottle of beer then hands it to Tam. “In a way. She’s a robotics inventor specializing in prosthetics.” Among other, more destructive inventions.

Tam spits out her gulp of alcohol, eyes white in shock. “She gets a conscience?”

“Sweet kittens in a cereal box, no! She’s still a gun toting maniac with a side of bitchy sass.” Tamara manages to explain between crackling guffaws. Ella, Matilda, and their younger selves glance at them then Ella resumes chugging a whole liter of cola with the other three cheering her on.

Tam giggles along. “Whew, reality’s safe from breaking itself then!”

They laugh themselves breathless, startling their friends into asking for an explanation. Once they’ve calmed to snickers, Tam and Tamara exchange a mischievous look.

“Oh, just how Tori got a conscience and helps out in nursing homes.” Tam did her best at a nonchalant tone.

Younger Mati and Ell are dumbfounded, but Older Ella and Matilda catches on and giggles.

Ella adds on, “Did you tell her about the time Tori went on a nature hike and hugged trees?”

“I forgot about that.” Tamara has a serious need for air, but she wheezes out, “What about the time she played paintball with actual paint?”

“No way!” Ell cries out, seeing through the misinformation and chuckling.

“Wait, what?” It takes Mati a bit longer, but she’s snickering with them.

Ella recovers first. “Tori’s still Tori, but she does help out more.”

“Yeah, apparently she invents better prosthetics.” Tam tells the other two. They're soon enraptured in a discussion about what technology the future has thanks to Tori.

The older women stay quiet on this, dodging any questions about what exactly Tori’s company has done. It’s better to keep the Red Army and its leader a secret; Ella demonstrated that time paradoxes are a thing and no one wants another glitch in time. But the visit continues to go well and satisfies Ella’s cola addiction.


	4. Fun With Cloudbergs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat plays the blame game, Palle calls his bluff, and Tord is murderously tired of them both.
> 
> An extra scene to the Eddisode "The Snogre".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

Patryck watches the burning wreckage hit the ground. He turns his gaze up to the cloudberg which dealt the blow. It occurs to him he maybe should have listened to Tord’s report on British weather. And not dismiss the little bit he heard as mad ravings of a then-new recruit. A glance at Tord and Palle reveals glares with almost lethal potency aimed at the plane pieces.

He is  _ so  _ going to be dishonorably discharged.

“Who flew into the cloudberg?” Tord questions, tone razor sharp.

Silence answers him as neither of the men want to incur his wrath.

Tord sighs. “I’m not mad, really. I just want to know for the report to Commander.”

Palle immediately looks at Pat, sulking glare telling all. Still, Pat tries to telepathically tell him to keep his mouth shut.

It does not work at all.

“Pat did.” Palle accuses.

Patryck could kick him right now. In fact, he tries to do so, but the betrayer is too far away from him.

“I did not, you traitor!” Pat screeches, desperate and furious in turns.

Palle growls back, “I warned you there was a cloudberg ahead yet you ignored it.”

“You said it was an iceberg.  _ Ice _ _berg_! It’s your fault—”

“ _ My  _ fault? How dare you—!”

“—thought you were my friend, but no! You save your own—”

“You would’ve thrown me under the bus if—”

Tord snaps. “Shut the hell up!” Shock silences them, and so he continues, “Pat, tell the truth. We’re all in enough trouble as it is.”

“How was I supposed to believe cloudbergs existed in Britain? Or at all for that matter.” Pat grumbles; his only joy about this whole situation is their rapidly approaching landing.

“You should have paid attention to my presentation on their weather. This could have been avoided.” Oh, no, Tord’s disappointed timbre. Pat dreaded the day it would be used on him and now his fears are reality. “I provided concrete evidence of the phenomenon.”

“Tord, no offense, but the pictures looked photoshopped.” Pat confesses, looking to Palle for support on this at least.

Palle nods, “Yeah, they were bad.”

Their feet hit the ground and there’s mumbling from Tord about the indignity, but Pat’s attention is on the strange shuffling and groaning behind him. He glances over his shoulder, then pivots on his heel and draws his gun up.

Sickly green zombehs staggers toward the three soldiers, grasping hands reaching to drag them to their doom. Palle and Tord are quick to notice the threat and arm themselves.

Tord spares a moment before fighting the horde to level a deadpan stare upon the other two. “Somebody will die today because of their mistake. Think carefully about which of you is most at fault and write your last will accordingly.”

Pat prays to a higher being,  _ any  _ higher being, for his safety. And Palle’s too, even though he’s a backstabbing jerk.


	5. Bacon Battle 2: Puns a Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wizard and a zombeh battle for that glorious bacon. Who will win?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like a "Bacon Battle: Side Edd" mixed with a monster mash. Also, I finally adds puns.

Early mornings are great. One might say it’s the best time of day to wake up. The bacon is sizzling, a cold cola quenches his thirst, and his favorite cereal is waiting for him on the table. A hangover potion brews away in the cauldron, ready for a certain grumpy rage demon. He hears the front door open, an umbrella rattling closed, and Edd flicks the curtains shut just in time as Matt walks in.

Edd grins, seeing a perfect pun-portunity. “Welcome home. Had a good night at the  _ casket _ -ino?”

Matt smothers his giggle then takes a seat and plays along, “You could say my shift was  _ riddikulus _ .”

“A Harry Potter pun? Careful, or I might start  _ coffin _ from inhaling my cola.” He grins as Matt struggles not to give in.

Tord wanders in while Matt thinks of a comeback to Edd’s solid punning and goes straight to rustling through the fridge for his leftover brains. He shuffles over to the table after, dropping onto a chair and hands Matt a cup of blood. Edd casts a floating charm on his plate of bacon, sending it off to the table and works on getting the remaining grease out of the pan.

“I—You’re—Ugh, I can’t think of anything,” Matt eyes Tord. “Got any good puns to defeat this lizard?”

As Matt realizes the accidental pun and cheers, Tord shrugs, “I dunno. It’s not like I have any tarots up my sleeves.”

“Wow, did that take dead-ication?” Edd asks, turning around to sit down, but does a double take when he sees his empty plate and Tord’s full one. “Hey, those are mine!”

Tord looks him right in the eyes and eats a strip. “ _ Brew _ you, they're mine.”

Edd reaches for the plate, blocking Tord’s attempts to block him until they stalemate in a tug war over it. Matt watches them fight like it’s a tennis match, eyes darting from one to the other, and sips his drink. They’re downright growling at each other when Tom ambles in.

“Tom, distract Tord!” Edd pleads, nearly on the tabletop.

Tord bares his teeth in a psychotic grin. “Try it, Purple Candy Corn.”

There’s a moment in which everybody freezes, looking at Tord and marveling at his steely confidence.

“Well, I was planning on staying out of it, but now I have to join.” Tom cracks his knuckles.

Tom rushes Tord and tackles him down. Edd saves the bacon, takes a strip, and happily eats it until Tord, crawling under the table to escape Tom, yanks his knee out, thereby toppling Edd to the floor. Matt moves his chair against the wall, content to sit this out.

No one has any more bacon that morning.


	6. Cola Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edd's cola addiction is as strong in teenage as it is in adulthood, leading himself and his friends on quests to feed the cravings. This is one such quest to an ice cream shop with a sale on cola flavored ice cream during a heatwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about British weather or their bus systems. Or fashion.
> 
> Enjoy!

Today is sunny, minimum amount of clouds dotting the sky, and oh, yeah,  _ hotter than a damn frying pan _ . And that’s without mentioning the humidity of it all.

Edd would regret dragging him and his friends outside, but the prize is worth braving through the summer’s first heatwave. It absolutely is worth becoming uncomfortably sticky and melt-y, flushed red skin giving him a resemblance to a brown-leafed tomato, fingers burning from touching equally burning hot surfaces. It’s a mantra to steel his resolve during the wait for the city bus. His hoodie is tied around his waist, an extra layer of protection against the cooking bench, and he is  _ this _ close to risk public indecency by taking off his shirt. Though, that’d leave more exposed skin for his friends to stick to, determined as they are to avoid touching all but the necessary spots of plastic, metal, and lacquered wood of the bus stop.

Tom leans heavily against Edd, hair drooping despite its products. “Why are we suffering?”

“Cola ice cream.” Edd half-heartedly elbows Tom, accepts his new existence as a human lean-to.

For some reason, Tord stubbornly wears his black coat. Tom and Matt were sensible enough to take their hoodies off, but Tord? It’s like being in a furnace just  _ looking _ at him. The weather doesn’t seem to affect his attitude in the least.

“You need an intervention if your cola addiction is this bad.”

“Says the guy in black in 30° heat.”

Tord scoffs. “It’s called fashion, Edd, keep up.”

“Black’s in now, but I like my purples better.” Matt confirms, his tall stature somehow conforming to Tom’s side and spilling over his lap.

Tom swats at him, groaning, “Stop talking about black clothes; just thinking about wearing any is melting my bones.”

The bus rides into view down the street, parking at the boys’ stop. There’s a bit of a scramble to get on what with Matt and Tom almost boneless in the heat and Tord needing frequent breaks from helping Edd support them. It’s satisfying yet guilt-inducing to shoot him “I told you so” looks every time he stops for a breath.

Once inside and in their seats, they spread out more from each other, skin temperature too hot in the cool vehicle. Tom and Matt are still useless dead weights and probably seconds away from falling asleep, but their blissful expressions are funny enough to energize a chuckle from Edd. Tord’s less likely to drop from heat stroke, though his hair did in his steed. It’s strange to see him without the little horn tuffs, just as it is seeing Tom’s hair not defy gravity.

It seems like mere seconds pass when they reach their stop, and his friends don’t hesitate to voice their disapproval. But they follow him off the bus, if only because he’s a human walking cane for two out of three. Finally, the ice cream shop is in sight. Its sale signs announces all the flavors available for a discount, including his precious cola flavor. Going into the store is as tricky as the bus, but they make it work. They  _ have _ to make it work this time; failure when dessert is literally  _ right there _ is not an option.

“Whew, thought we’d never make it!” Edd sighs, drinking in the cold and the menu behind the cashier.

Tom tugs on Edd’s sleeve. “Ice cream. Now. Before I die.”

Matt pipes up, weaving a hand through his hair, “My hair’s fizzing.”

Tord slings Matt’s free arm over his shoulders and sets an easy pace to the counter. “Stop talking and start walking.”

They place their orders, then Tord takes Tom and Matt to a table, leaving Edd at the register. This wait is nerve-wrecking since his goal is so close yet so far. As though as all the energy the weather sapped out of him is returned tenfold, and he strums his fingers on his forearm. A tray is filled with bowls of different ice cream, Edd eyeing the light brown one like a starving wolf, and he picks it up carefully, wanting neither wrath nor spilled sweets. The walk to his group is slow and steady.

The bowls are distributed once they arrive and they dig in, Edd finally melting after taking that sweet first bite. He’ll never let them convince him his cola ice cream quest isn’t genius after this.


	7. It's a Mystery, Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real mystery is why Tom bothers trying to expose Tord's crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last day is Free Space! I had so much fun this week, I'm sad to see it end. I can't wait to do this next year!

Tom inspects the messy study, the bullets holes in the walls leading to two bodies slumped against a desk, and then the bodies themselves. Bing and his assistant, Larry, have guns in their hands, but the expression of shock immortalized on their faces suggests the attack came out of nowhere. Edd’s pawing through any leaning tower of blueprints and files to find evidence of a vengeful outsider. Matt is distracted by the full body mirror by the bookshelves while Tord creeps closer to the door every time Tom takes his eyes(?) off him. Deciding he’s not nearly drunk enough for this, Tom pulls out his flask and drinks deep gulps.

“It was Tord.” He accuses after the burn in his throat settles down.

Startled, Edd drops a stack of files. “What? No, it’s this guy.” He thrusts an open file at Tom, showing off the picture of a brunette man with unusually large eyebrows.

“Okay, one: that man is not anywhere in the mansion; and two: Tord’s been trying to leave to get rid of the weapon and gun powder residue for about seven minutes now.” At Tom’s pointed glance, Tord freezes from reaching for the doorknob then backs away with a confidant smile.

“Edd, you know Tom is always trying to blame stuff on me.”

“Oh, so that’s not a gun in your pocket?”

Tord immediately drags his hoodie down when Edd and Matt’s attention snap over to him. It only accents the pistol in his front pocket more.

“No!” Tord denies.

It’s hard to believe they came for a movie and now have to solve (or cover up) a murder thanks to good old trigger-happy Tord. At least Tom is enjoying how uncomfortable Tord is as he tries to adjust his hem. Edd hums, pondering the overwhelming evidence.

“I don’t think it is him, though.”

Yep, not nearly drunk enough for this.

“He does have a gun, Edd.” Matt reasons. He’s now Tom’s favorite person in the room.

Edd dismisses it, “He always has a gun. He’s never  _ ArmaLite _ after all.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it wasn’t him then.” Matt is no longer Tom’s favorite person.

He sighs and accepts the inevitable. After Edd and Matt get distracted by what they were doing before, Tom looks the other way as Tord slips out of the room. Though, he glares at him when the police arrive and ask what everyone knows of the crime.


End file.
